


Crown of Thorns

by Peregrine_Took



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - World War I, Angst, Immortals, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, kind of an, polygot, slowest burn of all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peregrine_Took/pseuds/Peregrine_Took
Summary: Sidney's an immortal frat boy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No, not an eternally douchey bro, but a man who has lived far too long trying to find something worth living for again in a house full of bros. And when a mysterious someone from his past shows up while two besties are passing a doobie, only trouble could follow. 
> 
> -
> 
> This has been an idea in my head for far too long, I don't know when exactly the next time I will update will be(hopefully within the week), but please leave your feedback below, it is much appreciated!!

It’s late on a Saturday evening in early January. Far enough into the early morning hours that most of the guys have already retreated upstairs to bed, but not quite late enough that the noise from the street has died down for the night.  
  
Sidney moves from the kitchen, bottle of water in one hand and reheated week old chicken wings in the other, and into the main tv area where Kris and Flower are sitting.  
  
Marc-Andre has laid claim to the recliner. Though Kris sits at his feet refusing to move, and struggling to keep his lighter lit long enough to light the tip of blunt placed between his lips.  
  
“Tanger, you’ve got to use a different lighter.” Flower’s leaning back on the chair, obviously impatient, “You can't trust a lighter you found in the parking lot of the Kum & Go.” He laughs through his teeth and Kris follows suit, the blunt falling from his lips and into his lap.  
  
Sidney cracks a smile at the two of them and tosses Kris a lighter sitting on the side table he was planning on setting his chicken down on.  
  
It isn't much longer that the familiar musty smell of pot permeates the air along with Marc cry of “Don’t fucking take it in one hit, you have to help me with work tomorrow!”  
  
Sidney finally sprawls out on the couch, pillows wedged under either arm, and stretches his legs out. He sighs contently when there’s a heavy knock at the front door. “Marc,” he groans and starts to muster the energy to get up, knowing his friend is always at fault for inviting random students he meets on campus over to the house. Flower jumps up before he gets the chance to get up, smacks him in the face with a stray pillow, and jumps over his extended legs.  
  
“Lazy bum,” he chastises laughing, “no one would ever believe that you refuse to get off that filthy fucking health hazard of a couch.” He makes his way to the door quickly over the creaking, distressed hard wood, looking over his shoulder at Sidney.  
  
“Nah it’s okay, I can't die,” He jokes easily as Flower shakes his head, “you also can’t convince them otherwise,” Sidney shoots to the empty hallway before throwing the pillow back to the chair Marc’d had been sitting on, narrowly avoiding Kris’s head.  
  
Sidney just stares at the popcorn on the ceiling, listening off hand to the mumbled conversation Marc’s having in the other room. The heavy door shuts, and two pairs of footsteps slowly make their way to the living room.  
  
Sidney sits up more on the couch, trying to appear to be less of a slob than he’s presenting as right now, despite the fact that it’s well past two in the morning. He pulls out his phone and tries to look somewhat like he isn’t completely interested in whatever stranger Marc-Andre has brought in when there’s a sharp inhale from the door.  
  
Sidney’s head snaps up and it takes a minute for his brain to catch up to what he’s seeing. “Я думала, ты умерла.” (I thought you were dead) The words fall quickly from his lips as easy as they had nearly a century ago.  
  
“Я могу сказать тоже самое тебе,” (I could say the same to you) Evgeni answers back, clearly surprised.  
  
“Sidney?” Kris makes a move to stand up, his brows drawn together in confusion.  
  
“очевидно я не покойник.” (Obviously I’m not dead) Although it’d be easy to assume otherwise. Just over a century earlier, being left behind in the middle of a war zone. Getting nothing but Evgeni looking over his shoulder in something that back then resembled sadness and regret, but a hundred years later Sidney recognizes as pity.  
  
Something in Evgeni’s expression changes suddenly, from confused to angry. He swallows roughly but the resentment is still heavy in his voice, “очевидно так.” (Obviously so)  
  
“блять.” (Fuck) Sidney’s mind is reeling but he quickly pushes down the urge to run out the back door. “говорят по-английски, они не знают.” (Speak English, they do not know)  
  
“Sidney.” Flower speaks slowly as if he’s speaking to Sidney for the first time. “This is Geno, but I take you’ve already met?” There’s an obvious accusatory tone in his voice, so rare to hear from Marc, that sets his teeth on edge.  
  
“Yeah, once or twice. Around.” Sidney’s up on his feet now but he still feels suddenly uncomfortable in the house he’s made his home over the past few years.  
  
“Okay, Tanger,” He walks over and grabs Kris’s elbow before guiding him towards and up the stairs, “I think it’s time for us to go to bed.” Sidney waits until he can’t hear the two of them stumbling over their own feet before he speaks.  
  
“What are you doing here?” There’s nothing kind of friendly in his voice as he moves into Evgeni’s space.  
  
But he just brushes him aside, “Это то, что вы делаете?” (Is this what you’re doing?) He asks looking around the room, the couches still shoved against the walls from when they had a knee hockey tournament earlier in the night, crushed water bottles and beer cans littering the tables, and Kris’s two lighters sitting on the ground at his feet. “вы зря тратите свое время.” (You are wasting your time) He practically spits out the words.  
  
The anger in his body so suddenly manifests that when Sidney pushes into Evgeni’s space, whipping out the small dagger he conceals but hasn’t even thought to use in over fifty years, even Evgeni has the audacity to look surprised with a blade to his throat. “Это не тебе решать как я провожу время.” (It’s not up to you how I spend time) There’s an awful lot of time to waste and Sidney doesn’t need to be reminded or told how to spend his.  
  
“Сидни Кросби.” (Sidney Crosby) If Sidney hadn’t known any better, he’d say the name almost sounds sweet coming from the mouth of Evgeni, but he knows better than he had before.  
  
“Ты все забыл английскую уже?” (Have you forgotten English already?) Sidney sneers, “ответить на мой вопрос, почему ты здесь?” (Answer my question, why are you here?)  
   
Confronted with the question a second time, Evgeni looks uncomfortable, though the blade is still angled against his jugular. “Didn’t know you’d be here. Flower says to come over, meet some friends. Had no idea Sidney Crosby’s here.” Sidney pulls the dagger back.  
  
“But why are you here?” He asks again, “Last I saw you, you were in Austria, leaving to go back to Russia. Why are you here?” He stresses.  
  
Evgeni only shrugs, “Trouble back home, maybe wait a few dozen years, go back.” He says it nonchalantly but he’s avoiding Sidney’s eye contact, and that only makes him more annoyed and more worried about the real reason of his departure.  
  
“So you decided to come to America? To the same city, same college I happen to be at?” He asks disbelieving.  
  
Evgeni narrows his eyes at the implication, “So sorry didn’t warn everyone of my coming.” He waves his hands by his ears, “Watch out, immortal Russians coming over to steal you’re seat in cafeteria.”  
  
Sidney falters at a response. “Russians?” He asks, already knowing, and at this Evgeni smiles a devilish smirk that makes Sidney’s skin prickle and his mind rush into chaos.  
  
“Саша, he come too.” (Sasha)  
  
Sidney can already feel the life he’s set up for himself slipping from his fingers as his mind races to come up with an escape plan from the situation he’s found himself.  
  
It wasn’t even four years ago he’d finally taken back his name and come out of the isolated life he’d become accustomed to. Even played it safe in sticking to just going to school, staying at a college close to where he’d been staying in Pittsburgh already. Hoping to get a new job or try something new with whatever degree he obtained this time around.  
  
But now with Evgeni’s shark-like smile and just the thought of Alex in the same country, same city, he has to leave. Fuck. He has to leave everything.  
  
Anger replaces disbelief and he’s suddenly so angry at fate, or chance, or whatever the fuck made Evgeni come to Pittsburgh of all places.  
  
Sidney’s anger must be obvious on his face because the next thing he knows, Evgeni is grabbing him by the wrists and trying to get him to calm down. “Sidney, you’re going to have to stop. Going to give ‘self headache.” But it doesn’t get nearly as close to the comfort or reassurance he needs.  
  
“You need to leave.” He says forcefully. “tебе нужно уйти прямо сейчас.” (You need to leave right now) He spits out the words hoping Evgeni takes the message and fucks off. But he stands there watching Sidney with an expression so far removed from anything he deserves to give to Sidney after everything they went through. “Я, наконец, зажила свободной жизнью, в которой отказала себе.” (I was finally free to live the life I had denied myself) Though as he gestures around the frat house he doubts Evgeni would understand everything he’s been through to get this and what it means to him to have it. “а теперь tы просто пришел всё испортить, снова.” (And now you’re here to ruin it, again)  
  
It’s not as if he’s never had somewhere he considered home, it’s just hard to find somewhere you feel like you belong when decades feel like months, and any other human you interact with dies too quickly for you to truly get attached without putting yourself in harm’s way.  
  
Sidney can’t remember a time when he knew his family, the vague concept of his mother and father exist in his mind, but far too much time has passed for him to entertain the idea of remembering them, or remembering anyone who he actually gave a shit about. In fact too much time has passed for him to truly remember even his own childhood. Things like the first time he was killed, the first true dose of panic he felt when he realized this nightmare wasn’t going to end, at least not soon, which leads him to his first century alone, then another, and now where he stands still looking the same as he did a few centuries short of a millennia ago.  
  
And after years of living on the outer edges of the quickly growing world he now sees around him, keeping any speculation of who or what he is away from those who don’t have enough time to comprehend it, and finding himself fighting in war after wretched war hoping that maybe one day he’ll find his death among those he calls his brother’s in arms, he meets Evgeni.  
  
Who needs to _fucking_ get out of his house right _fucking_ now.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohoooo boi

To Sidney, days melded into one another, and this was especially true during war. 

He couldn’t fully explain to anyone including himself how he’d gotten to the forefront of the battle. To the small town in eastern Poland, where in late August, the air is heavy and sticky with heat. The uniform Sidney’d found himself wearing proving more of a nuisance than anything else. Though the feeling of the uniform on his skin makes no different when he’s lying in the grass dying.

He’d put up a good fight, storming in on his horse with little hesitancy, but it didn’t take long for the battle to become bloody. Sidney had just looked over his shoulder to see who of his men were still up and fighting when something heavy hits him in the gut and well off his horse’s back. And while he hits the ground, air being knocked clean out of him, the horse runs and Sidney can only watch.

He’s just got the air back into his lungs when the man who knocked him down stands over him. He moves one foot over Sidney’s torso so he’s trapped between his boots, unable to get up as the man moves the barrel of his gun to sit on Sidney’s chest. 

“войну до победа.” (war until victory) The man grits out before pulling the trigger.

-

Sidney wakes up to the sun slipping through the space between his blinds and the windowsill, shining in his eyes. His mouth is dry and tastes like shit. He groans, shifting onto his back and nearly jumping out of his fucking skin when he sees Marc sitting in the corner of his room. 

“Enjoying the view?” Sidney asks, throwing his arm over his face. When he gets no response, his stomach churns with unease, “Have you just been sitting there all morning or have you-.”

“Cut the shit Sidney.” Marc cuts him off sharply. He stands up and crosses the room to Sidney’s bed and yanks the cover off of him, “what the hell was that last night? Since when do you speak Russian?” 

Sidney sits up on the edge of the bed, weighs his options. “I started learning it over the summer a couple years ago. Something new after freshman year.” The lie comes easy, but Flower knows him too well. 

His expression moves to something unbelieving and angry. “What the fuck Sidney. We’ve been friends for years, I know when you’re lying. Picked it up a couple years ago? You’re Canadian, but that? You sounded like you were someone completely different.” Marc’s aware enough to keep his voice quiet, but it doesn’t stop his hands from moving as his voice does, becoming more frantic. He jabs a finger into Sidney’s chest without breaking eye contact. “Do not lie to me. I’ve never seen you that tense,” He gives a taut laugh, “And that saying something, so tell me what the fuck was that.”

-

The first moments of awareness are only filled with a tight and uncomfortable feeling in Sidney’s lungs. Taking a breath after not breathing for hours never becomes easier, and the burning sensation that filled his body when he did so makes Sidney think that it’s probably the closest thing to the feeling of swallowing fire. 

He takes a few shuttering breaths before the feeling starts to return to his arms and hands, down his legs and into his feet. He tentatively moves his feet and grasps the lengthy grass under his fingers, reveling in the softness of it. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he sits up abruptly, coughing the rest of the blood still in his lungs. The blood that stains his clothes, now dried and thick. Already Sidney’s standing, moving to strip the bloodied and torn coat off along with the shredded undershirt.  
He takes a deep breathe, the night’s cool air reaching him and his newly closed wound, satisfying him more than he’d thought possible. He looks down and around himself, only now noticing the bodies scattered around him. Fuck.

Before he can even take a step forward he hears voices coming from his left, he doesn’t even have to turn his head to know they’ve spotted him when the voices stop. It’s only a moment later when he hears someone yell, “Эй, ты,” (hey, you) across the sea of bodies. “вы в порядке?” (Are you okay) The tallest one of the group asks, his hand waving at Sidney. 

The brashness of his speech and, when Sidney looks, the way he crosses the field confidently, tells him a lot about the ratio of Russian to Polish soldiers at his feet. He quickly realizes his stripping out of his bloodied coat is the only reason he doesn’t have three Russian soldiers running at him, weapons drawn. Thank god for small miracles. 

“Нет, не беспокойся, я в порядке, я в порядке.” (Don’t worry, I'm fine, I'm fine) He waves back to them as they get closer, hoping they’ll move on and leave him be to find shelter. But as they get closer, he decides once is enough to die in a day. He bends down, snatching his saber off the ground and holding it close to him. He looks around franticly for his rifle, but it’s gone, taken from his corpse while he was without a heartbeat. Somehow he finds it in himself to be a little pissed about it. 

It doesn’t last long though as the three men finally get within a few strides of Sidney, and he quickly notices none of them have uniforms or coats on like the rest of the Russian soldiers, though the collection of rifles and sabers thrown over their shoulders is quite impressive. 

He catches the half of what the shortest man is saying, tuning in only because he’s gesturing to Sidney, “Что ты делаешь, стоя здесь, просто…” (What are you doing standing here, just …) half-naked? Sidney thinks to himself. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing sounds like a good excuse, even in these circumstances. 

He can tell none of the three are completely sure of the situation, but it’s confirmed when the tallest of the three glances down at the coat cast aside at Sidney’s feet. He speaks up from where he stands over the two others. “Ты не русский, ты поляком.” (You are not Russian, you’re Polish) He looks confused, but maybe even a little impressed. “но Вы же говорите по-русски?" (But you also speak Russian) 

Sidney grips the handle of his saber harder, waiting for the proverbial ball to drop, despite the fact that it kind of just did. 

Instead, the tall Russian steps forward and moves his hands, gestures to Sidney’s chest, mangled and still healing from the gunshot. “что здесь произошло?” (What happened here) He asks innocently, and Sidney panics for a moment. 

The truth. It won’t change anything, not really. They won’t believe him. In fact, they’ll probably laugh loud enough that it’ll fill the empty dead air around them, then shoot Sidney in the head. Take his saber, the chain around his neck, and move on. Coming up with a lie might get him in trouble, he’s always been a terrible liar and with Sidney’s track record they could decide to take him to whoever’s in charge and trouble could really begin. He’s never been captured, or found out, and he intends to keep it that way. So—, the truth. 

“я бессмертен.” (I’m immortal) He shrugs despite the fact his hands are shaking. He surprises himself with the level of apprehension he’s feeling, walking into this death. “Меня подстрелили в сундук, и проснулся несколько минут назад.” (I was shot in the chest, and woke up a few minutes ago) It sounds ridiculous in his ears. In all the time he’s been alive, Sidney thinks this is the first time he’s ever actually said it out loud. Immortal. Somehow it adds to his own anxiety. 

He’s ready for the men to start laughing, or at the very least pull out a pistol to put the crazy Polish soldier out of his misery, but instead the two in front only stare at him in something between unease, and awe. The tall man in the back beaming a generous smile.

-

Sidney scrubs a hand over his face. Maybe it’s time he did tell someone, he gives Flower a contemplative gaze that makes him raise an eyebrow in return. It’d be nice to have someone on his side who wasn’t a Russian asshole. 

And, only because he definitely sat in Sidney’s room for the sole purpose of scaring him, and because it’s still the ass-crack of dawn. Sidney decides to be a dramatic prick. “On s'est rencontré au début à Pologne.” (We first met in Poland) 

“You speak French!” Flower yells accusingly, early morning be damned. He takes a step back and crosses his arms, his mouth slightly open like he has something to say, but he’s silent. His brows come together the slightest bit showing apprehension and incredulity, as if he’s contemplating the past three years and the trust he’s given Sidney.

It’s in this moment, for the first time, Sidney understands the importance of the friendships he’s made. 

He sits up on the bed, “Je suis désolé. e suis vraiment désolé. Je ne pensais pas…” (I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…)

“T'as raison, tu ne l'as pas fait.” (You’re right, you didn’t.) He looks away from Sidney and let’s out a shaky breath, the kind that preludes tears. It makes Sidney feel like he’s alone again. “Putain!” (Fuck) He yells again, this time abruptly, like he’s trying to get past the anger and aggression. He looks back to Sidney with almost a steely look of determination. “Sidney, I love you like I love my family. I care about all of you. Why did you feel the need to hide this?” He finally asks, his voice softer. 

Sidney lets out a deep breath, stands up, and directs Marc to the bed, pushing him down so they’ve effectively switched places. He regards his options quickly before settling and pulling his shirt over his head. 

“Holy shit, Sidney.” 

It wasn’t as if he completely avoided looking at himself shirtless, it’s just been a while. It’s easy to pretend none of the raised scars, healed over each other time and time again, don’t exist when he’s already lovingly and joking been given the mantle of house puritan. Not even willing to take his shirt off for the simplest of activities, what are you hiding Sidney?

Scars. Roughly six hundred years worth of battles, mishaps, deaths, opportunities Sidney used to learn were mapped out on his body. He’d refused to really look at them sometime in the past sixty years, after the memories and emotions tied up in them got the best of him. 

Flower reaches out and Sidney flinches back unconsciously, glancing away. When he meets Marc’s eye again, he looks murderous, “Geno did this to you?” If Sidney hadn’t believed Marc’s admission of love for Sidney, there was no way he’d be able to look past it now. The sound of his voice so full of anger, he might as well have been screaming.

“No, no he didn’t do any of this to me.” He clarifies quickly, “A lot-, a lot of this happened years before I met him.” 

“In Poland?” 

“Yeah. In Poland.” He pauses, “In 1914. After I woke up after being shot point blank in the chest.” He rushes through, and quickly realizes he just outed Evgeni as well as himself. 

“What? Sidney, what? 1914?” He looks more confused than he had before, his hands rubbing up and down his jean clad thighs, unconsciously burning off nervous energy. “I thought I asked you for no more lies.” 

“I’m not lying Flower.” He pulls the chair from the corner of the room so he can sit eye level. “Marc, it’s the truth.” He takes a deep breathe and for the first time, tells the story of what he can remember. 

He must’ve been born, he reasons with himself. He doesn’t think there’s any power that could just pull him up from the earth. Sidney recalls to Marc, what he thinks is his first death. A fuzzy unsure memory of a frozen lake, and cracked ice. 

He tells him how unsure he is of his true age, how he tries to keep track but time wears on and so does he. 

Tells him of battle after battle, home after home, the faces he passed without knowing. Pulling up as many memories as he could actually remember. 

“I met Evgeni in 1914 after I’d been killed by another Russian soldier during a battle in Krasnik. He was there after I woke up, and by some fucking miracle he knew exactly what I was going through. Him, Alex, and Sergei, they all knew.” The words just pour out of his mouth, after decades and centuries of not speaking, he lets all of it out, “I traveled along with them, but something happened after a while.” The memory sits in his mind so fresh, “There was some trouble between them or with me, I don’t know. They left, all three of them left. And-, a few days later I’d heard the area they’d gone to was leveled, a blood bath, no one alive. They were immortal, but the stories-, I hadn’t thought any of them actually made it out, hadn’t thought I’d ever see them again.” It only now occurs to Sidney that they’d probably told him a different city in hopes that if he’d followed them, he wouldn’t have actually found them. 

“Except for last night.” Flower adds, and Sidney nods.

“Yes, but it was the first time in over a century. I was surprised, that’s the truth, I swear on my life.” He lets out a deep breath. “For what it’s worth.”

Marc is silent across from him, just staring down at his hands. The sun has risen far into the sky by now, and filters evenly through the blinds, lighting the room in a hazy glow that lets Sidney see the conflicted expression on Marc’s face. 

“I want to believe you Sidney-.” 

“Then believe me.” He asks quietly. “Please.”

“I-,” He sighs heavily and runs his hands over his face, disheveling his hair. “You aren’t making this up?” Sidney shakes his head profusely, and that seems to make Marc even more distressed, but when he speaks, his voice is soft and comforting, “I believe you. Really. Thank you for telling me.” 

Sidney feels immense relief, and his whole body sags in alleviating reassurance. A sort of freedom filing his chest as he can feel tears rising so quickly to his eyes. Years of feeling alone and isolated, before he came to the house, and far before he’d met Evgeni, finally felt obsolete in the presence of the first person who trusted Sidney’s word because he trusted Sidney. 

Flower grabs Sidney’s hands firmly from where they’re shaking slightly in his lap and asks, “So what’s next?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was gone for so long (lmao like a week), was on a family vacation! Hope you enjoy the new addition, comments are always appreciated!

Ideally, Sidney knew the next step would be to talk to Evgeni. Ask about why he was here. If the weariness in his voice was something more than just the feeling of unease from seeing Sidney again, maybe ask about his life since the war, ask about why he left Sidney.

He just hadn't realized it’d have to be so soon, but Flower was nothing if not persistent.

“You like coffee now.” Evgeni gestures to the drink sitting in front of Sidney, the white mug with his hands wrapped around it, trying to leach the warmth from it.

“I’ve always liked coffee,” He says shorty. “I don’t drink it without sugar.” Evgeni is silent, looks like a kicked puppy, before Sidney quickly adds, “sugar rations,” with a shrug. At this the sad look in Evgeni’s eyes is replaced with something light and friendly.

“Should have known,” He says with a smile, “always did have a sweet tooth.”

Marc is openly staring between the two of them with a far off look of awe, before he turns his attention solely to Evgeni. “How long have you been alive?” At this, Evgeni looks taken aback and suddenly affronted. He places both hands on the table and leans forward quickly as if the noise in the small campus cafe won’t drown out his words anyway, “ты сказала ему!” (You told him) The mood has shifted back to unease and untrust.

“Я рассказала ему о своём прошлом, И ты в этом.” (I told him About my past, and you took part in it) He explains quickly, full well knowing nothing good will come out of this.

Marc either ignores the heat in Evgeni’s voice and expression, or is oblivious. He leans into Sidney’s space and quietly asks, “Qu'est-ce que tu dis?” (What are you saying) While Sidney stares across the table at Evgeni.

They didn’t know each other long, only traveling together for a few months before unspoken disagreements and a refusal to confront the problem had them separate. But there was still something there, every since that first genuine smile Evgeni had given Sidney standing in the moonlight in the middle of a field of bodies. It was shared hopes, aspirations, and emotions that will never truly come to light under their circumstance. An understanding that comes from now knowing that though it might not be a gift, it was what they’d been given.

Looking at Evgeni, Sidney can see the same thing he saw a hundred years previous.

And Geno can see it too.

“Il m'a dit que je pouvais vous faire confiance.” (He told me to be able to trust you) Evgeni finally says, “que tu ne sera pas dire à personne mon secret, ou je peux vous tuer.” (That you will not tell anyone my secret, or I can kill you)

“Sidney!”

“I did not say you could kill him!” Sidney says the last part a bit too loud and a few student passing by glance over in annoyance or curiosity of the outburst. He ducks his head down and can feel his face heating in embarrassment, “I did not say he could kill you, Marc. He’s being a jackass.” He says in something almost resembling fondness.

“Jackass?” Evgeni asks, “hundred years without seeing each other and we suddenly good friends?” There’s a tone of resentment layered under his words that makes Sidney less inclined to broach the subject, but he’s long learned nothing gets done without just diving in.

“We were friends, good friends. I still don’t know why that ended.” He takes a deep breath and sighs, “We were doing fine, we always got along so well, I guess- did I miss something?” He leans forward in his seat a bit, “was it Alex?” But that didn’t make sense, Alex was always elated, especially around Sidney. Never had to force happiness or conversation, though it was easy to see the grimness of his past permanent around his eyes. So that leaves-, “Sergei?”

The look on Evgeni’s speaks a thousand stories in the span of a moment. The way he ducks his head to look away from Sidney only making a quick devastating assumption true in Sidney’s mind.

It’s not unusual to lose people given their circumstance. It more common as time goes on, which makes it easier not to get attached. But Sidney’s never really had the luxury of knowing anyone like him up until he’d met Evgeni, and even then it’d only been a few months.

Evgeni was lucky though. He woke up with Sergei already by his side, and after every unfortunate accident since. Someone who, from the way he remembers Evgeni speaking about him, was the fucking light at the end of the tunnel. Someone he could look up to.

A couple centuries later they’d found Alex, the youngest in both his years living and his years living an immortal life, and somehow it’d been perfect.

It’s easy for Sidney to see, by the way his eyes glaze over with tears, that it’s no longer that way.

“что случилось?” (What happened)

“Его убили дома, Прошлой зимой. Саша нашли его.” (He was killed back Home, last winter. Sasha found him)

“Женя. Мне жаль.” (Zhenya. I’m sorry) He doesn't have to feign the sadness in his voice, the sympathy he feels sitting heavy in his chest. Sidney realizes he probably doesn’t really know how Evgeni feels, it’s been a long time since he’s gotten close enough to anyone to feel that type of loss.

Sidney looks over to Marc, who’s stayed silent during this exchange. Despite not actually understanding any of the conversation, there’s a level of understanding in his eyes.

“After it happened, Sasha and I moved around a bit, came over here.” He finishes, his voice shaky and close to breaking.

“You said he was killed?”

That gets his attention. Evgeni looks up at Sidney and there’s something comparable to fear in his eyes. He nods slowly and looks between meaningfully at Sidney, “We need to talk, just not here.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that this was something that had to happen now, that this might have even been the reason for agreeing to meet. So soon after Sidney had tried to decapitate him in his frat’s living room. The three stand up and Evgeni makes for the door. Marc starts after him but Sidney grabs his arm before he can get more than an arm’s length away. “Marc I think you should go help Kris with his homework, this is-.” So much more than anything he wants to involve his friend in.

“Sidney you can’t be serious.”

“It’s not an option. Thank you for believing me and coming here, but if someone killed Sergei, and Evgeni thought the best course of action was to leave Russia, you can’t be involved with it.” Marc looks ready to open his mouth to argue, “I cannot let you get hurt, by anything. Go back to the house, and I’ll be back later tonight.” Marc still somehow looks as hesitant as Evgeni waiting outside the front window, “Kris needs your help with his project anyway, education before parties.”

“Sidney this isn’t a party, you’re going home with a immortal man who left you in the middle of a war zone a hundred years ago to figure out why they came to America after a mysterious someone killed his immortal dad.” He had a good point, yet-

“No. Go home.” He pulls out his phone, “I’m texting Kris right now, if you’re not home in ten minutes he’s going to call me. Please go home.”

Marc gives him another exasperated look before nodding his head and following Sidney out the front.

It’s not like the door was a solid piece of wood or metal, but when he reaches for the handle and it swings outward as someone walks in, it jolts Sidney out of his own head. When he looks up, his History professor is standing in front of his with a beaming smile. “Hello Sidney.” He says pleasantly, and it takes a second for him to gets his wits together enough to say something back.

But he manages a quick, “Hello professor Lemieux.” Before giving a nod and exiting, Marc in tow.

They say their goodbyes and Marc promises to go home, not follow Sidney instead. He heads back towards the house, in the opposite direction Evgeni turns to.

They walk side by side to wherever Evgeni is staying currently. He keeps his head forward but when Sidney glances over at him a few times during the walk, he looks contemplative and nervous.

He starts to wonder the story behind what happened to Sergei.

Sidney’s only ever met Evgeni, Alex, and Sergei. Maybe he stayed too secluded to his sections of the world, from century to century. Barely venturing outside of the city when he finally came to Pittsburgh right after the war had ended.

It’s not crazy to think that there are probably more immortals somewhere in the world, in fact it would be foolish to assume anything contrary.

Though everything he’s died from has never been permanent, he’s died as many ways as he’s able to come up with from what he can remember, and obviously nothings been permanent.

Saying he was killed implies, to Sidney, it was purposeful. So who knew about Sergei? Who knew enough about him to know what would ultimately kill him?

He’s too stuck in his head to realize it when Geno comes to a stop in front of a tall brick apartment building. He looks up towards the top of the building, it looks decently nice. Though money’s not really an issue for them as long as they stashed or invested their money in the right place a handful of decades ago.

Geno pulls a key card from his back pocket and buzzes them in, walking to the elevator, and sneaks in as another tenant exits. Sidney squeezes in before the doors can fully shut and they stand there while the fluorescent lights hum and the elevator pulls them to the fourth floor. The sterile clean smell makes Sidney’s nose itch and he watches his reflection as he itches under his nose.

“I should warn you,” Evgeni breaks the silence, “Саша’s home.” (Sasha’s home)

The heavy elevator doors open and Evgeni walks out leaving a semi-stunned Sidney behind. He quickly catches up but he stays a step behind preparing himself.

It’s not like he didn’t think Alex was going to be home, but-. He just didn’t think Alex was going to be home, for whatever reason he didn’t even think of the possibility.

So when Evgeni pushes the key into the lock and it swings open suddenly, yanking the key from Evgeni’s hand, to reveal a ruffled looking Alex. He’s not prepared at all.

“Да ты быстро, уже вернулась! что он сказал?” (You're fast, already back! What did he say) Alex berated Evgeni before he’d even had the opportunity to take a step towards the threshold of the door. Seeing it an easy way to divert attention, he simply stepped two feet to the left revealing Sidney.

“Сыднюша!” (Sidney) There’s no hesitancy in the way he steps forward and wraps his arms around Sidney, holding him tight like they weren’t as distant as he was with Evgeni. Then again even during the time they knew each other, Sidney would consider Alex the closest thing to a brother he’s ever had. “Я вас целую вечность не видела." (I haven't seen you in ages) His head rests on Sidney’s shoulder. “я так рада тебя видеть." (I’m so glad to see you) The raw honesty in his voice makes Sidney think about the time they spent together, and makes him so dearly miss the short time they spent together.

Alex takes a step back but keeps his hands on Sidney’s biceps, “Думала, я тебя больше не увижу." (I thought I’d never see you again) It doesn’t take knowing Alex to be able to hear the sadness and relief in his voice. “Когда Евге́ний вернулась домой прошлой ночи, вышагивать вокруг как безумный, с твоим именем hа его губах… бы не Прекрати болтать марихуану, братствах, and Сидни Кросби.” (When Evgeni returned home last night, pacing around like a madman, with your name on his lips ... Wouldn’t stop talking about marijuana, frats, and Sidney Crosby) He leans forward slightly, despite Geno standing a foot away, listening intently. “Между нами, я подумала, что он спятил. но вот вы здесь.” (Between us, I thought he was crazy. But here you are) He gives Sidney one more smile, before abruptly turning around and pulling Sidney into the apartment.

“ты наверно голоден, вынужден есть aмериканец блюда долгие годы. Я для Евге́ний сделала покушать. Однако он не любит моя стряпня, так что можете есть его.” (You’re probably hungry, forced to eat American food for many years. I made a meal for Evgeni. But he doesn't like my cooking, so you can eat it.) Alex goes off a mile a minute, sounding just a tad bit frantic, and a little out of control. He drags Sidney past the living space and into the sizable kitchen, where he leaves him at the far counter so he has room to swing open the fridge and pull out stacks of boxed food.

Evgeni walks in behind the and shuts the front door, pulling his key from the lock. “Я нравится как ты готовишь, вы просто приготовишь столько. это всё все что ты делаешь.” (I like how you cook, you just cook so much. It's all that you do.) He says it fondly and Sidney has a feeling they’ve definitely had this conversation before.

“Oправданий, оправданий.” (Excuses, excuses) Alex says, moving around the kitchen in small bursts.

The room was quiet for a minute as Evgeni and Sidney watched Alex. He slows down every few seconds, like he formulating something to say to explain the sudden pinched expression on his face. but he keeps moving. Towards the cupboard to grab a plate, and when he reaches up Sidney notices his hand is shaking ever so slightly, and when he looks over to Geno, he's watching Alex intently. Brows furrowed together and worry written all over his face.

Alex was a hundred and twenty-nine years old. He was born seventeen years before he’d first died, and twenty-seven before they’d met Sidney. He was by no means a child, but he definitely wasn’t as desensitized to losing people as the rest were, and he was a lot more emotionally vulnerable.

He’d lost both his parents as well when he’d died, Geno and Sergei had found him living on the streets of Moscow a year after. He hadn’t lost anyone since, until now of course.

“Саша.” (Sasha) Geno says gently. “Put down the food, we need to talk to Sidney.”

Alex is breathing heavily but he nods, setting down the plate in his hand and moving over to the living room.

Sidney sits in the recliner, Alex and Geno sit across from him, and it’s silent again. “И что случилось?” (What happened) Sidney asks, quickly adding, "and no lies".

Evgeni's staring straight at him when he says, “Я думаю на нас кто-то охотится.” (I think someone is hunting us)

“Hunting?” Sidney exclaims. “Like tracking us down, and killing us?” Maybe not the best choice of words, Sidney thinks as he sees Alex wince, but they both nod and Sidney feels his mind reel. “What the fuck.” He can’t think of anything else, “Who would do that? Who even knows about us? What-.”

“We think it’s another immortal, one that Sergei knew before I was even born.” Geno shifts on the couch, like he’s uncomfortable. “Sergei thought someone had followed us when we moved from Moscow to Magnitogorsk. Even when we were settled-, watching him was-.” He sighs heavily, running his hands through his hair. “It’s like he knew something was going to happen.”

“I came home one night and found him.” Alex speaks up, “We left less than half an hour later.”

Sidney tries to imagine someone caring enough about anything they could have done in the past to warrant this, “you said it was someone he knew before you’d been born, how do you know?”

“Sergei knew there were more of us. They’d all been together at one point, I think maybe seven of them, but there were disagreements. Too many people, too many opinions on what they should do. Apparently being immortal is more than just sitting around, lot of running, moving around. One guy didn’t like it, and finally snapped saying that… “mы не имели права быть бессмертным, если бы мы ничего не делать но скрывать.” (We had no right to be immortal, if we did nothing but hide) He looks at his hands as he talks, as if he’s keeping track of the story, trying to get all the details right. It makes Sidney think Sergei knew he was going to die, told Geno everything before it happened so he wouldn’t be in the dark if this person came after him and Alex. “Sergei and two others left, right after, but they never heard from any of the others.” He shrugs, “If this guy killed him, he probably knows about Alex and I, we have to assume he’s going to come here too-.”

“So you knew I was here?” Sidney asks.

Evgeni nods and Sidney’s stomach drops, “Sergei kept track of you.”

“What?”

“He made sure you were alive every five years or so, I think he always regretted leaving you.” Sidney’s trying to gather his thoughts after everything he’s heard.

It’s not that hard for him to swallow Sergei keeping an eye on him, he’s never tried to be invisible, but he did think he was at least a little stealthier with his identities than he must have been. But a fucking immortal hunting the rest of the immortals?

“It’s hard to believe, I know-.”

“It’s really not,” He thinks of his conversation with Marc earlier this morning, “But, why would he have regretted leaving me? It was more than his decision.”

Evgeni looks suddenly uncomfortable, “No, it was his decision. We argued about it for weeks before he put his foot down. I wouldn’t have just left you.”

Sidney sits on the recliner, information sitting on the surface of his skin as he processes everything. He thought he’d gone over every scenario for why the three of them left him two miles west of no man’s land with nothing but an overused rifle and two sabers.

He settles on the fact that his memory might be failing him after six hundred some odd years.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should at this point apologize for any current and future spelling errors! I go through the chapters pretty thoroughly, but I'm also pretty notorious at abusing proper grammar. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, comments are much appreciated!

He hadn’t really gotten any sleep, and he knows today’s going to be a nightmare. He’s stuck in his head and he knows from the moment he wakes up, he’s not going to be able to have a productive day in any sense of the word. It’s already giving him a headache. 

He wants to be able to just forget all the shit Evgeni and Alex had told him, go on with his day and his classes, but how can he knowing there’s someone going out of their way to kill them. 

He’s waiting for the coffee maker to turn on, leaning against the counter with his hand resting on his cheek, when Kris walks in the kitchen from the front of the house and gives him a smile. He grabs the box of the cinnamon toast crunch from the pantry and sits at the fold out table on the far side of the room. 

“You know Sidney.” He says, breaking the seal on the box of cereal, “if you want to take my boyfriend on a date that’s fine, just don’t return him distraught.” Sidney turns away from Kris, using the move as an excuse to grab a mug from the cabinet above the coffee maker. “The worst part about it is, he’s not telling me why he’s upset. We don’t keep secrets from each other Sidney, especially not Marc and I.” The words he uses aren’t at all alarming or unnerving, but Sidney knows Kris enough to realize that even with joking words, the irritation and displeasure in his eyes isn’t something to fuck with. 

“He’s not keeping a secret from you, he’s keeping his word and my trust.” Sidney doesn’t like using his friends trustworthiness to him as a means to get what he wants or prove his point, but his problem isn’t something he can just keep telling people. Kris makes a face like he can see what Sidney’s doing, and turns to the box of cereal, grimacing. 

Sidney realizes he’s being a dick. “Kris, I’m sorry. It’s just some stuff from before I was in school. Old stuff coming back to bite me in the ass.” 

Kris makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Is it ex trouble?” He asks with a tone of voice that lets Sidney know that he’s off the hook, for now. Before he has a change to answer, Marc walks into the kitchen as if he’d been waiting outside the door for the best moment to do so.

He glances at Sidney with a soft look in his eyes and Sidney sighs in relief, he’s been doing that a lot lately. “I guess you could say that.”

Kris perks up at that, and Marc drops a kiss on the crown of his head, passing behind him to the pantry. 

“You’re not joking?” Kris asks. “One of your exes, someone who dated Sidney Crosby, was in this house? The Russian?” Sidney looks up at him, and then at Marc who has a small disbelieving look.

“He was an ex something.” Sidney says under his breath, sticking his mug under the drip. 

“Oh, don’t be a fucking tease Sidney.” Kris says with elation in his voice as Marc stand behind him, chewing a granola bar and raising an eyebrow at Sidney. 

“We didn’t date per say.” He grabs his coffee and holds it to his chest, chewing on the inside of his cheek, thinking of what to say, “I don’t think we knew each other long enough, you know? I think it could have been something, given time. I think we had a connection, as dumb as it sounds, there was something that was always there for us. It was never bad until it was. You know what they say,” He grimaces, “shit happens.” When he looks up from the cup Kris and Marc and staring at him and Kuni, who must’ve walked in sometime during his monologue, stares as well. 

“That’s some pretty heavy shit for nine am.” He remarks before lightly shoving Sidney out of the way to get a mug for himself. “You should lighten up Sid, you’ve got class in half an hour.” 

“Fuck,” he remarks before taking a large swig of his coffee and passing the mug to Marc, who he knows will finish it off without second thought. 

-

By the time he actually arrives in class, after running upstairs to finish getting dressed and grab his books, he’s still got a few minutes before the class’ll actually start. 

He takes a seat in the back corner, not the best for his attention, but he finds something about eyes on his back anxiety inducing. He drifts of for a moment thinking back to what he’d said in the kitchen in his half asleep haze. 

Nothing he said was necessarily a lie, but saying everything aloud gave the truth a painful twist that was familiar in the way it made Sidney’s heart ache. He should probably talk to Geno, maybe there was still something that could be salvaged. 

It’s obvious now the real reason Evgeni and Alex came to Pittsburgh was to warn him, but he thinks about what it would be like if they stayed.They could all live together, or close enough for comfort. Geno and Alex have had each other for so long, and thinking about it makes Sidney tired. Thinking about the past fews days; the dangers potentially coming their way (A hunter-? A killer- an immortal killer, killer of immortals. Fuck. What was so wrong with living low? Exposing them could ruin everything, get them all killed anyway), the dredged up feelings and emotions (How the very thought of the surface of them makes Sidney want to scream. The heavy feeling in his heart lifting whenever he thinks of that incomparable smile), the part of Sidney’s life that he hasn’t actively had to worry about or even think about (It was a fucking frat house, but why would that have been a problem in changing his life as a fucking recluse). All of it, he’s fucking exhausted. 

“Sidney.” 

He looks down the rows of chairs, and finds them empty. He looks at the clock, expecting maybe five minutes to have passed, but it’s been an hour and fifteen. “What the fuck?” He can’t help but say aloud.

“I knew you weren't quite paying attention, but should I take this as a sign that you need me to email you the notes slides for todays class?” Professor Lemieux is standing at the front of the class, leaning on the wooden podium, a bottle of water clasped between his hands. 

Sidney’s simultaneously impressed with himself and wholly disappointed. “I’m sorry.” He runs his hands through his hair before grabbing his books where they lay untouched on his desk, and dumps them in his bag before swinging it over his shoulder. “If you could email me them that’d be great.” He makes his way to the front of the classroom. 

Professor Lemieux just smiles easily, trusting and understanding. “You wanna talk about whatever’s so obviously bothering you?” 

It’s hard to ever really look up to anyone who’s so much younger then himself, much less experienced and so unassuming. Yet somehow, Professor Lemieux has always been understanding and compassionate. Speaking to Sidney and the rest of his students as equals, which Sidney found was something that became hard and harder to find as the decades went on. He was more than a favorite teacher at this point, he was someone who Sidney knows he’d remember for years to come after his death. 

And the way he talked about history. Not everything is ever perfectly recorded, Sidney realizes this and remembers every couple weeks when some detail of some past event he comes across in his textbook is different from what he remembers. Though the way Professor Lemieux talks about history, and the way he presents it is almost enough for Sidney to forget the inaccuracies. He cares about history enough to teach it, and in a lot of ways Sidney admires him for it. 

Looking back on it, much like the first time he met Sergei, Geno, and Alex, Sidney would blame the trustworthiness and exhaustion to his answer. 

“I think someone it hunting my friends and I because we’re-.” His brain catches up with his mouth before he can fuck up his day more than it already has been. 

“Hunting?” He says under his breathe in something similar to disbelief, “Because you’re…” Lemieux has this look on his face, an open hopeful expression. Though something similar to worry seems to work its way into his eyes. 

His mind is made up, “We’re-,” He quickly realizes what he’s doing, telling more people Evgeni and Alex’s secrets, and tries to backtrack. “It’s my problem, really, I’m just dragging people in.”

“Sidney, if there’s something wrong and you need help-.”

“I’m immortal.” Sidney’s worries the words are becoming easier to say at a time when they should be the most scarce. 

Lemieux coughs as if he’s choking on the water in his bottle. 

“I know it’s fucking crazy, but all of this shit has just come up in the past two days, and I honestly think I’ve done more shit in the past two days than I have in the past five decades. I’m having trouble processing any of it, and I’m just so tired, and I don’t know how I’m this tired when it’s only been two fucking days-.”

“How old are you?” He interrupts, moving quickly to the door and locking it, ensuring no one would enter. 

It’s not necessarily the first question he’d ever expect, but he imagines to a history teacher it’s a pretty self explanatory question.

“Somewhere in the six hundreds,” He exhales a long shaky breath and feels so suddenly emotional that he has to keep his head turned up so he doesn’t actually cry in front of his teacher. “I’m sorry.” Though he doesn’t really know why he’s apologizing. 

“Sidney, I really need to know if this is a joke.” There’s little room in Lemieux’s voice for anything but a serious tone. 

“What?” Sidney looks back down at him. “No, I fucking wish, I swear I’m not lying, you have to believe me.” 

“Sidney.” He hesitates, looking contemplative, but he makes up his mind fast enough after glancing at the clock, “We need to talk about this somewhere more private. I know it’s not ideal or professional, but would you be willing to come home with me?”

“What about your classes?” He only has this class the first half of the day but he knows Lemieux teaches at least two a day. 

“Sidney, I do think this might be a little more important.” He pushes his papers into his bag, “I’ll just email out the slideshow of notes.” He says with a small smile. The whole situation makes Sidney suddenly anxious and he questions his decision. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Lemieux to notice. “Sidney, I promise I’m not going to hurt you-, or kidnap you. For fucks sake you have the body of a twenty year old, I don’t.” He pauses for a second and looks thoughtful, “I really just don’t think this is the place, there’s stuff we should discuss. If you’re being… hunted.” He finishes before moving towards the door. “Are you coming?” 

Sidney figures if Lemieux tries to kill him or kidnap him, he’d either wake up alive, or be in a better position than being hunted by an unknown face. He follows Lemieux out the door. 

“I don’t live that far from campus,” he says as they exit the main building, “thanks for coming with by the way.” He looks over his shoulder at Sidney who nods. “Honestly, I’m surprised you told me.”

“I’m surprised you’re taking it this well.” Sidney retorts, because really, this is not the response he’d expect from a history professor. Especially one like Lemieux. 

Lemieux only gives a knowing smile, continuing down the sidewalk towards the residential neighborhoods behind the university. 

Sidney, much like the day previous when Geno had brought him home to talk, got lost in his head watching the back of Lemieux’s head. He wonders about the questions he wants to ask, or just in general the questions he will ask are. Marc had asked the most obvious questions, but that was to be expected; how old are you? What’s the worst ways you’ve died? Who did you know? There was a reason Sidney was still taking history classes going into his junior year, not only were they easy to pass, but it was something he loved to remember and experience again through those memories. He’s excited to see what-.

“How many languages do you speak?” Lemieux is stopped in front of a massive stone house, set back off the mains street and surrounded by trees. 

“Um,” His train of thought disappears as he takes in the actual size of the house, “is this your house?” Lemieux nods before making his way up the concrete stairs to the front door. Sidney follows, “Holy fuck. You can afford this?” He speaks without thinking and realizes it might be insensitive, but honestly this is a lot more than what he imagined a university professor’s salary. 

“I don’t live alone Sidney.” 

“Oh,” Lemieux’s never talked about being married but he guesses it make sense. “Um, I don't know.”

Lemieux unlocks the front door and moves inside, leaving it slightly ajar as an invitation for Sidney. “What?” He asks, glancing down at the watch on his wrist and then back up at Sidney.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. How many languages.” He shuts the door behind him and stands on the front mat, “A lot, I’ve never really counted.” 

“Incredible.” He remarks motioning for Sidney to follow him deeper into the home. “Est-ce que vous comprenez le français?” (Do you understand French) 

Sidney breathes a laugh, “Oui.”

Lemieux sets his bag on a table they pass while walking down the hallway and Sidney notices there aren’t any pictures on the walls, at least not ones of Lemieux. There’s a lot of paintings with seemingly random subjects; landscapes, still lives, things simple and basic enough that he would expect to find in the bargain bin at the second hand store.

When Lemieux leads them into the kitchen, he gestures for Sidney to sit at the island while he makes his way to the pantry. “Mluvíte česky?” (Do you speak Czech) He asks after glancing down at his watch again with a smile. 

Sidney’s not afraid to admit his jaw drops a little bit and he frantically asks, “dělat vy?” (Do you)

Instead of answering, he looks to the back door that looks like it leads down into the back yard and to the garage behind the house, and before Sidney’s able to ask another question, the door swings open and a man saunters in and makes eye contact with Sidney.

He stops in his tracks, and Sidney finds himself sitting just as still. “What the fuck.” The man says and Sidney has to second the sentiment. He looks over to Lemieux who shuts the pantry door with a box of saltines in his hand.

“Vítej doma.” (Welcome home) Lemieux says to the man still standing in the threshold of the door. “Jak bylo jezero?” (How was the lake) 

The man looks stunned and maybe a little pissed. If Sidney had to pick a word to describe this guy, he’d say he looks rugged. He’s decently tall and has, what Sidney would determine, is a respectable amount of muscle on his frame. (Respectable in the sense that he definitely wouldn't go out of his way to fuck with him.) 

“Mario, který je sakra ten kluk?” (Mario, who the fuck is that kid) The man still hasn’t moved from the doorway. “co to sakra dělá v našem domě.” (What the fuck is he doing in our house)

Lemieux sits adjacent from Sidney, pulling a pack of the crackers from their box nonchalantly. “Je to jeden z mých studentů. On potřebuje naši pomoc ” (He’s one of my students. He needs our help) The man finally walks fully through the door, shutting it behind him and all but glaring at Lemieux. 

“náš?” (Our)

“Řekni mu, že Sidney.” (tell him, Sidney) Lemieux says, but what is he supposed to say? What does he want him to say? 

“What?” Sidney asks, mostly from confusion of what the fuck is going on, but also because he doesn’t understand what Lemieux wants from him. 

“Tell him what you told me half an hour ago.” He says and Sidney looks at him incredulously. Of everything he thought Lemieux would ask him, he didn’t think he’d expect him to tell his roommate, or husband. Whatever. Sidney just stares at him.

“Mluvíte česky?” (Do you speak Czech) The man looks at Sidney with skepticism.

“um jo, dělám.” (Um yeah, I do)

“takže co to sakra děláte tady” (So what the hell are you doing here?)

“Jaromir.” Lemieux chastises lightly. 

“The kid’s fucking terrified Mario,” Jaromir gestures to Sidney sitting. “Stop being so vague and tell me why you brought him here.”

“I’m not scared.” Sidney says, and though his voice sure as hell doesn’t share the same sentiment, he decides to say fuck it and prove it, “I’m ah-, I’m immortal.”

The man does a double take and narrows his eyes. Sidney squirms under the pressure of his gaze, and of everything he expects out of the stranger’s mouth, he certainly doesn’t expect to hear, “Prove it.” 

He has only ever told five people his secret, and three of them were immortal. No one’s ever questioned what he’s said. 

Then again he’s only told five people. So he’s somewhat surprised (even though he probably shouldn’t be). “What?”

“Prove it.” He walks over to the drawer next to the refrigerator and pulls it open, rummaging around until he pulls out a small hand gun as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He checks the safety and barely hesitates before he shoots Sidney in the chest.

He’s so stunned that he doesn’t even try and catch himself when he falls off of the stool, hitting the ground hard and fast. (He’s embarrassed to admit the first thing that goes through his head is that at least it’s going to be easy to clean up his blood from the linoleum.) He groans and can already feel the unfortunately familiar sensation of pain radiating from the bullet wound. 

Somewhere in the background he can hear Lemieux’s voice loud and threatening. 

“Bordel, pourquoi t'as fait ça?" (What the fuck did you do that for) He yells at Jaromir, who’s now standing over Sidney, still holding the gun. “What if he was just fucking joking, Jaromir!” Through the black spots I his vision he sees Lemieux is now standing over him as well, his hands braced over Sidney like he’s unsure if he should touch him or not. 

“Then we’d get rid of the body before Nathalie got home, it’s not the first time I’ve killed someone Mario.” 

“He’s one of my students, he has friends-.” Mario stops talking as soon as he hears the sound of the back door opening again. 

Sidney knows it’s stupid, but he tries to see who’s at the door. He groans loudly when the pain seemingly doubles because of the movement, and promptly passes out immediately following the frantic voice of a woman yelling, “What the fuck is going on?” 

Honestly, he’s wondering the same thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all, I am so incredibly sorry for the delay but I've moved to a different state to start school for another year, and hopefully understandably it's a little time consuming. It took me forever to write this chapter and I definitely will be going back at some point in the future to fix a few mistakes (which are bound to be in there no matter how many time I read through it). I'm really trying to stick with this story despite my schedule, as it is the longest fic I've ever written and definitely one who's story I've become attached to. That being said I do not know when the next time I will be able to post a new chapter will be, I'm trying to stick to at least once a month until it's complete, but I can't promise anything. Thanks so much for understanding guys, and as always, comments are much appreciated.

There was a reason Sidney decided to stick to Pittsburgh.   
  
It was quiet and it wasn’t particularly interesting, but it had enough to keep him from being bored while he laid low. In fact he hadn’t died since he left Europe. Though, he thinks the fact that he determines the appeal of a place based on his own deaths, is probably not how most people would decide somewhere was worth living.  
  
He doesn’t want to believe that he has to move because his history professor’s roommate (Husband? Partner?) shot him in the chest, after all, he was just asking for proof of what Sidney was saying. But in the same stream of thought Sidney realizes again; he was shot by his professors roommate.  
  
The first thing he does before he opens his eyes is take a deep breathe. The sharp shooting and burning pain that erupts around his chest is one he hasn’t felt in a long time, and it’s almost enough to make him pass out again, reminding him of the pain of a punctured lung.   
  
He coughs, trying to force any blood that may have been in his lungs out, but it seems that he got lucky, or at the very least whoever _Jaromir_ is, he knows how to aim a gun.   
  
He opens his eyes and waits for his vision to adjust to the darkness, taking a few deep breaths. As he makes out the shapes in the room; the dresser, closet, the bed frame, his brain catches up with what he’s seeing and he quickly sits up in the bed.   
  
“We had to move you so Mario could clean the blood off of the floor.” He says it as if Sidney was the nuisance and he wasn’t the one who’d shot him.   
  
Sidney pushes himself off the bed so he can actually defend himself if Jaromir tries to shoot him again, almost tripping himself when his legs get tangled in the sheets. And standing there in someone else’s clothing, in a random room (the most obvious answer being in Lemieux’s house), with someone who had no problem in shooting a college student as the best way for ‘proof’ in what he was saying, he doesn’t fully believe Jaromir when he says, “Don’t worry I’m not going to kill you again.”  
  
It takes a minute for Sidney’s half asleep mind to fully parse the sentence, mostly because the headache pounding behind his eyes is getting in the way, but he points at the man across from him, for lack of a better idea. “You said you’d killed before.” Yeah, Sidney may of been dying but he’s still observant.  
  
“We shouldn’t begin without Nathalie.” He moves to the door on the other side of the bed and opens it, letting the light in, and gesturing for Sidney to follow him as he leaves.   
  
As Sidney moves to the hallways to follow the man, he thinks there’s a million things that he would rather be doing right now, but there’s obviously a reason all of this has happened the way it has. Lemieux wouldn’t have brought him here, to Jaromir without some sort of an idea in his mind.

  
Admittedly the house is bigger than he anticipated, so when they finally get to the end of the hallway and Jaromir descends the stairs towards he front of the house without hesitancy, and Sidney tries to break the silence that’s developed, “víte, proč mě sem přivedl Mario?” (You know why Mario brought me here) He doesn’t respond but he has to reach out for Sidney’s shoulder when he takes an awkward step forward off the last step. He gives Sidney a look similar to disdain or annoyance and continues back to the kitchen. “kdo je nathalie?” (Who’s Nathalie) He asks to the back of Jaromir’s head, and though he doesn’t answer, as soon as they step back into the kitchen a new voice rings off the linoleum.

  
“Je suis sa femme.” (I’m his wife) Sidney looks across the room to where a young blonde woman is perched on the desk built into the wall by the back door. She’s pointing to Lemieux who’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Sidney, with elbow high rubber gloves and a scrub brush caked in blood.

  
Sidney’s first thought, no matter how inappropriate, is how young she looks compared to Lemieux, like years younger, with his hair streaked with grey. His second thought is interrupted by Lemieux as he rolls onto his knees and moves to get up off the floor, “Oh good you’re awake!” Sidney can’t help but stare at the spectacle in its whole. “Your phone’s been ringing for about an hour now.” That gets Sidney’s attention.

  
“How long have I been asleep?”

  
Jaromir moves next to Nathalie, both far enough from Lemieux and himself that it gives them a feeling of being separate from the scene, “you’ve been asleep for thirteen.”

  
“Thirteen hours?” He grabs his phone off of the counter and notices his clothes are folded on the chair he was sitting in, his stupid small dagger laying on top.

  
“Must’ve been a while since you last died, huh?” Nathalie asks, her voice soft but understanding. The implication behind what she’s saying makes Sidney double take from where his phone is currently buzzing in his hand.

  
“What? You know-,” the longer you go without dying, from what Sidney gathered over his centuries, the longer it takes to heal and come back. Though he’s never gone this long without dying, she knows. She knows. “You’re immortal?”

  
“Yeah,” Jaromir answers, and this admission makes Sidney’s confusion double, but as he recounts the events from what he remembers, it makes sense.

  
“You’re all immortal?” He feels like he had a hundred years ago standing in the field, when the tall man hiding behind a hyperactive kid and a man who’s suspicion never actually went away, belted out _‘We are immortal too!'_

  
Fucking terrified.

  
“Just Jags and I.” Nathalie clarifies and somehow that doesn’t make Sidney feel any better.

  
The only thing Sidney can think to say it, “but you said you were married.”

  
Nathalie nods, “We are, been married for twenty-seven years.”

  
Sidney doesn’t know how to react, so he just sits there, probably with his mouth open. But who can blame him.

  
“He knew before you got married?” Sidney directed the question at Nathalie, but ht two of them nod in unison. “Knowing that he’s going to die?” He thinks that he’s probably focusing on the wrong piece of information, but now that he’s thinking about it he doesn’t understand why someone would get married knowing that their spouse is not only going to outlive them, but live forever without them, would never age.

  
“Oh, we have a plan for when that time arrives.” Nathalie remarks with a small smile, “I’ve lived a long enough life without someone like him. I may be able to live forever, but not without him now that I have him.” The implication strikes Sidney to the core and he can’t imagine loving someone so deeply. The idea of loving someone that deeply terrifies him.

  
“You too?” Sidney turns to Jaromir.

  
“It’s more complicated than Nathalie, but I’ve lived a good life. A long life.” He grimaces and it’s the first time his hard exterior has shown anything but since Sidney had first met him. Albeit the time hasn’t been very long, when he says, “A very long life.” Sidney can see the pain and longing in his eyes. Holy shit, _was he ever going to get to this point?_

  
“Is that why you brought me here?” Sidney turns back to Lemieux, who has now shed the rubber gloves and is leaning with one hand on the counter. His expression is laced with worry and Sidney realizes it’s because of him. Sidney straightens up and attempts to look less like his whole view on life has been distorted.

  
“I brought you here because you said you had a problem. One that could potentially effect Nathalie of Jaromir if I heard you right.” He doesn’t speak slowly but there’s something in his voice that reminds Sidney of someone talking to a scared animal.

  
“The hunting?” Sidney asks, as if he’s actually surpried Lemieux was paying attention enough to remember that conversation. 

  
“I’m sorry, the what?” Jaromir asks, and Sidney remembers how ridiculous it sounded when he’d first heard it but he doesn’t know how to explain it to them.

  
“If we’re going to talk about this the others need to be here too.”

  
“There are more?” Nathalie asks, and Sidney nods looking back down at his phone where notifications keep coming in, texts from Marc and an unknown number. Though he has a pretty good idea of who's it is.

  
He opens his phone, but an incoming call from the unknown number interrupts his text to Marc. He answers it with no hesitation.

  
“Sidney, jesteś tam? Nic ci nie jest?” (Sidney, are you there? Are you okay?) Geno’s voice is horrible frantic on the other side of the line and he keeps talking despite the fact that Sidney’s finally answered the phone.

  
“Evgeni,” He interrupts him, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” It’s finally quiet on the other line, Evgeni sighs heavily and calls out in English, _It’s him, he answered._ There’s sounds of rising voices in the background but Sidney’s confused.

  
“Where are you? Who are you with?”

  
“With Flower and Kris, nazywają mnie krzycząca i zmartwiona, Zastanawiamy się gdzie byłeś. Nie odbierałaś telefonu.” (They call me screaming and worried, we were wondering where you were. You weren’t answering your phone) The relief in his voice is evident, but so is the tiredness. “Gdzie jesteś?” (Where are you)

  
“I’m at my professors house,” He looks around the room at the three people observing him, “I was shot-, why are you speaking polish?”

  
“Why were you shot!” He nearly screams the question into Sidney’s ear and then the voices in the background become recognizable as Kris and Marc, both start yelling at Evgeni. _What did he say? What do you mean he was shot?_

  
“Didn’t know if you were in trouble.” He responds, and Sidney realizes the position he put himself in and how it effects Evgeni and Alex, and now Marc. He’s starting to realize the plus side of living away from everything. 

  
“We need to talk about something, there’s more-, there’s other-.” Sidney hadn’t even seen Nathalie move across the kitchen until she slapped a hand over his mouth.

  
“You can’t just speak of these things over the phone.” She chastises him and Sidney feels dumb, heat rising to his face. He never thought anything like this, simply talking over the phone, would be an issue. Honestly he can’t tell if she’s being smart of overly precautions. “Tell them to come over, we can speak in private.” Probably both.

  
“Evgeni, you should come over, we can talk about some things here.” It’s quiet but he can almost see Evgeni nodding on the other line. “You can't bring Marc or Kris though, you gotta promise me.” Sidney makes eye contact with Lemieux and there’s a hint of recognition in his eyes. “They can't get any more involved in this, especially not Kris.”

  
“Я обещаю.” (I promise) And that has to be enough for now, as he ends the call and hands the phone to Nathalie who quickly and efficiently sends the address to the number and hands the phone back.

  
“How many people know about you?” Mario asks, but it’s obvious they’re all wondering by the way Jaromir and Nathalie’s attention is suddenly and wholly on Sidney again.

  
“Um, just three.” But-, “maybe four, I don’t know what Marc would have told Kris when I was missing.” Sidney really doesn’t think Marc would be one to break his trust, but it’s only really been a couple days since Sidney’s told him and ultimately he doesn’t know if any potential circumstances could change Marc’s opinion on the situation, or on Sidney.

  
Sidney dying would probably change that. Oh shit. That’s a possibility, Sidney remembers. Somehow since fucking last night (oh my god that was only last night) when he found out there was someone actively trying to kill him. Marc would definitely tell Kris then, but it wouldn't even really matter at that point.

  
“Evgeni and Alex are both immortal. They’re the ones coming over now.”

  
“And you told Marc?” Lemieux asks, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he knows Marc, not really.

  
“Yesterday morning.” Which feels like a lifetime ago now.

  
Jaromir is watching him from the other side of the kitchen, “And how’d he take it?”

  
“Surprisingly well.” Sidney admits, maybe even a little proud. “I’ve never really told anyone before, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to go and he just believed me.” He sounds like a fourteen year old girl talking about a school crush. “Trusted me.”

  
“You’ve never told anyone, and you’re how old?”

  
“Somewhere north of six hundred fifty.” He says and Jaromir’s lip quirks, the small movement making Sidney suddenly annoyed, “What?”

  
Jaromir looks over at Nathalie and she’s looking back at him with a little smile. Even when Sidney glances over at Lemieux he’s smirking a little, and it really sets Sidney on edge.

  
“It’s just that,” Nathalie’s hand sort of wave in the air like she’s swatting a fly or telling some far off story. “Sidney, you’re a baby.”

  
“I’m a baby?” He’s the oldest immortal he knows, at least-, “How old are you?”

  
They both shrug and Sidney realizes it’s not even a gesture of estimation or approximation, they just genuinely don’t know how old they are.  
“Older than that, definitely. Memories fade after a while, I’m sure you know that.” Nathalie speaks softly as if what she’s seen and experienced isn’t something beyond anyone’s level of understanding, maybe even his. He remembers the confusion of waking up for the first time, but no one associated with it. Maybe family, maybe friends, but ultimately the only thing he can truly recall is his own self, and even this specific memory is all but gone.

  
“I just can’t imagine-.” Completely forgetting the beginning of his life, a black spot that started his travels and where he is now. Or maybe that’ll all be gone too; Alexander, Evgeni, Marc, all gone and replaced by empty memories.

  
“Sidney, can you calm down for us?” Nathalie is standing in front of him now, and he doesn’t understand why it seems he never is paying enough attention to the people standing in front of them to see them move around. “Sidney, can you take a deep breath?” She asks again, gentler this time, and Sidney can feel his chest constrict, going against what she asks and he doesn’t understand why. Oh shit, he’s going to forget everything except for his name.

  
“Sidney, kid, you need to calm down before you have a full blown panic attack.” Jaromir sounds awkward saying it like he hasn’t had to say anything helpful in a while.

  
Sidney takes three deep breaths, trying to steady himself, “You should shut up." Wow, how eloquent. "You’re telling me to calm down, and I’ve tried so fucking hard to do just that. To just pretend like the last three days haven’t happened, I'm sure tomorrow I'll try and pretend you didn't fucking shoot me today.” His breathing is still stilted but he can feel all the frustration and thoughts from the past few days coming to surface. “I’ve thought about the last sixty years of my life, wondering if I made the right decision in staying away from everything and everyone.” Jaromir sneers and Sidney loses his cool a little more. “You can fucking laugh at me, but I don’t think you actually understand. I’ve lived over six hundred years alone, and the one time I thought I could have anything close to this, I ended up alone, thinking everyone I’d finally allowed myself to care for had died.” His voice cracks on the last word and he wants desperately to believe it has nothing to do with the way Evgeni’s face came to mind. “You may have lived long enough to forget the beginning of your life, but you still have something that up until two nights ago, I thought I would never even think about again. For sixty fucking years I hid because I didn’t know what else to do,” He can feel himself start to cry but he can’t stop himself from speaking, “I came here, to school, because I thought I could start a new chapter but then all this old shit gets dreaded up from the fucking depths and I don't know if this is all worth it.” He takes a deep shaky breathe and continues before anyone can interrupt him, “I’m fucking immortal and none of this is worth it. The years alone, outliving anything and anyone, knowing my friends now will be long gone while my memories of them fade. Being told there’s someone hunting me, because of something that I don’t even want, because of someone I loved-.” He cuts himself off and the silence is suffocating. The tension hanging in the air like a palpable fog. There’s a knock at the door.

  
“I’ll get that.” Jaromir doesn’t speak loudly enough to really break the silence, so when he leaves the room Nathalie and Lemieux glance to each other and back to Sidney, almost appraisingly.

  
Evgeni and Alex walk in, following Jaromir, a few seconds later and Sidney straightens up trying to push all the shit he’d just spilled to the back of his mind. He moves towards the two of them and steps behind them, shielding himself from the room. “They know someone’s hunting us, I told them that much, just tell them the details you told me.” Evgeni isn’t stupid, he looks at Sidney questioningly. Probably wondering why his voice is so quiet, why he sounds so exhausted, why his shoulders are hunched so near his ears.

  
“You okay?” He asks, “ They didn’t-.” Hurt you?

  
“Jaromir shot him,” Nathalie says it gently, like she can see the protectiveness in Evgeni’s eyes despite the fact that he hasn’t looked any from Sidney. “He is immortal, as well as I, she says.

  
Evgeni still manages to keep his eyes on Sidney. “Are you okay?” He asks again, and Sidney nods. It takes another moment before he gives a nod back and turns towards the room and the three strangers he’s now addressing.

  
“Sidney asks me to come over and explain what’s going on, but I want to say first, if anyone hurts Sidney again, I’ll kill you.” The anger and seething rage in his voice is so fierce and genuine, Sidney can feel his color rise to his cheeks.

  
“Understood, please.” Lemieux makes a motion inviting him to continue. He does.

  
Hearing the information again makes Sidney’s stomach churn. He grabs Alex’s hand when he notices it shaking by his side. He doesn’t say anything but he squeezes Sidney’s hand in a silent thanks.

  
“Who is your friend?” Jaromir asks accusingly, and Sidney hadn’t been paying attention but he thinks Evgeni had been referencing Sergei and the group he’d traveled with years and years before.

  
“Sergei.” At this, Jaromir looks so taken aback and when Sidney quickly looks to Nathalie she looks the same.

  
They look to each other, having a silent conversation that makes Evgeni and Sidney impatient with nerves.

  
“What is it?” Evgeni asks loudly, his voice filling the kitchen.

  
Jaromir laughs sharply and runs his hands up though his hair and over his face. “We know Sergei, or- we did.”

  
Alex and Evgeni are dead silent. “And-.” Nathalie sighs heavily, her voice foreboding and resigned, “I also think we have a pretty good idea of who’s killing everyone.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness guys, I'm so sorry it's been so long but school's so incredibly busy, woW! I wrote this short chapter to kind of make up for it and I plan on hopefully posting another something this weekend, maybe something added on to this piece in time, or maybe I'll continue where we left off. guess we'll have to see! Like always, comments are much appreciated and genuinely give me so much motivation in writing!

Krasnik 1914

Evgeni wakes up and can feel sticky warm air permeating the empty building they’ve found for cover. Though he shouldn’t have expected much from a roof that was barely there and walls that could barely stand up on their own.  
  
He sits up and looks around the abandoned church, one of many they’ve come across along with east front. The sun it peeking through a sizable hole in the roof that makes Evgeni question whether or not it would have just been easier to sleep outside.  
  
He stands up and avoids stepping on Sasha, who’s still curled around himself, snoring lightly. For a moment Evgeni wonders why Sasha’s shirtless, but the hot breeze that blows through the church is enough to make him only wonder where he threw the shirt. It wouldn’t be great if he’d lost it, they’d only taken from the clothes from the Russian soldier’s camp a week previous. He holds a private smile as he moves around him towards the front of the church where he can sit without worrying about debris from the crumbling building.  
  
He checks the pocket watch and sees it’s much later in the day than he expected, nearly half past six. “Эй! Сергей,” (Hey, Sergei) He yells to the two men sleeping not the ground, “Саша, просыпаться.” (Sasha, wake up)  
  
Sergei turns onto his back almost immediately as if he’d already been awake, and Sasha groans in his sleep, Clearly opposed to the idea of getting up.  
  
“пошли. становится поздно” (Let’s go, it’s getting late)  
  
“Сергей, с тех пор, когда женя делает правила?” (Sergei, since when does Zhenya make the rules?) Sasha pouts, turning back to face Evgeni.  
  
“Such a petulant child, why did we ever bring him with?” Evgeni asks Sergei, joking only slightly.  
  
“что ты сказал?” (What did you say?) Alex asks accusingly, sitting up fully. “вы знаете, что у сергей есть правило против использования английского языка, исключение для чрезвычайных ситуаций.” (You know Sergei had a rule against using English unless it’s an emergency)  
  
“это просто правило потому что вы отказываетесь учиться” (It’s only a rule because you refuse to learn) Evgeni shoots back sharply, and really, he shouldn’t push this far. He knows better than to work Alex’s anger too much, he’s still young and he’s probably just as tired as the rest of them.  
  
“Сергей говорит, что вы не изучали английский на протяжении десятилетий” (Sergei says you didn't learn english for decades) Alex goes as far as pointing an accusatory finger at Evgeni.  
  
“What?” Evgeni turns to Sergei who’s sitting up not the ground, watching in something close to disinterest. “You’re telling him about my past now?” Maybe the heat’s finally getting to him, or the long trip away from home, but his anger rises to the surface faster than he expected.  
  
“Nothing that’s important, Evgeni.” Sergei’s voice stays even but there’s a note of, ‘don’t get angry with me or you’ll regret it’ that Evgeni’s never been able to emulate.  
  
“That doesn’t mean you just get to tell him shit, it’s not you place.” Sergei stands up but doesn’t take any sort of stance that would imply him getting ready to fight Evgeni. Thank god, honestly.  
  
Looking back at Alex, there’s annoyance and incomprehension written all over his face, but Evgeni could care less. “И что еще он вам говорил?” He asks angrily, “Huh?” He takes a step towards Alex. The young boy’s face morphed into something frightened, but Evgeni doesn’t notice until it’s too late, until he flinches back from him.  
  
It stops him in his tracks and makes him quickly evaluate himself and his anger, Sergei grabs him hard on his shoulder and pulls to turn him towards himself. “Stop this. I didn’t tell him anything important. I already said that.” He keeps his voice low as if Alex could understand them all of the sudden.  
  
Evgeni regards him for a moment, “I’m sorry. I must be tired, didn’t sleep that much.” He shakes out of Sergei’s grip, but finds it hard to look away from his stern glare.  
  
“Мы не можем позволить себе драться или быть глупыми, это относится к вам обоим.” (We cannot afford to fight or be stupid, this applies to the both of you.” Sergei turns to look at Alex too, who’s seemed to calm down from earlier as well. “Я знаю, что мы некоторое время путешествовали, но мы должны продолжать двигаться. Ничто не может замедлить нас.” (I know that we have traveled for a while, but we must continue to move. Nothing can slow us down.)  
  
Thinking back on it, Evgeni is certain Sergei had no idea that the next few hours would change everything so drastically.  
  
-  
  
The first bodies they come across are fresh, their hearts have stopped, but the blood still trickles out of their wounds. The farther they walk, the more they find. Mostly polish soldiers, but those in Russian uniforms make Alex pause enough to have Sergei yell behind him ‘keep up or get lost’. So instead of worrying about the uniforms, Alex collects as many rifles and sabers that he can find not tied down to a body or stained in blood. There aren’t many, but enough that when his hands get full he starts swinging them across his body.  
  
This goes on as they cross the battlefield, the moon high in the sky, Evgeni scanning the field in case a polish soldier pops up with a gun in hand and shoots them. Not that it would make a huge difference but-  
  
“Sergei, смотреть.” (look). He points over to where there’s a lone man standing in the midst of the bodies. Evgeni’d looked over there only a moment ago, so he must’ve just stood up.  
  
When he looks to Sergei, he looks almost surprised. “Just keep walking.” He pushes Evgeni towards where Alex has moved ahead of them, towards the thicket of trees.  
  
“But what if-.”  
  
“Nothing that sentence ends with is going to be a good enough reason to go over there. We’ll have to kill him if he’s polish, or he’ll run straight to whatever base they have set up, and we’ll still have to kill him if he’s Russian or he’ll wonder why we’re not in uniform.” His voice is clipped, quiet, and stern as he pushes Evgeni forward.  
  
But when Evgeni looks back at the man standing there bathed in the moonlight, something pulls inside of him. “Эй, ты,” (hey, you) He yells, waving his hand far over his head. “вы в порядке?” (Are you okay)  
  
He pulls from Sergei’s grip and starts towards the man, glancing back and seeing Sergei - his expression pinched and fuming - and Alex following close behind.  
  
“Нет, не беспокойся, я в порядке, я в порядке.” (Don’t worry, I'm fine, I'm fine) He man responds back with and Evgeni can’t believe the slight relief that comes with the fact that he’s Russian.  
  
He hears Alex from behind him asking Sergei, “Что мы делаем?” (What are we doing?)  
  
The unknown man in front of them crouches down quickly and finds a saber on the ground, Sergei sighs. “что-то глупое.” (Something stupid)  
  
They stop a few steps away from the man, who looks more nervous than Evgeni’d expected.  
  
Alex breaks the silence first, “Что ты делаешь, стоя здесь, просто…” (What are you doing standing here, just …) without a shirt, Evgeni fills in and realizes he’s been staring. He quickly averts his eyes to the ground, but can feel his cheeks heat in with embarrassment as if they man actually noticed or that it was something that was actually important.  
  
He notices the bloodied uniform at the man’s feet and looks back up questioningly.  
  
The man looks at a loss for words, caught in a lie that hadn’t coming to surface, “Ты не русский, ты поляком.” (You are not Russian, you’re Polish) But that’s not right, he spoke Russian to them earlier, unless he did just know Russian. Evgeni guess’s it’s not completely crazy. “но Вы же говорите по-русски?" (But you also speak Russian)  
  
The man’s grip tightens on the saber but he doesn’t get in any position to actually use it. Evgeni glances back down at his chest and notes the mangled fresh scarring on the skin.  
  
His breath catches in his throat and he finds it hard to really breathe for a moment. The scarring is familiar. Horribly familiar. He lifts his hand to gesture to the surface of the skin before he can fully formulate the words, ““что здесь произошло?” (What happened here) But he doesn’t really need to know, he already does.  
  
He can hear Sergei’s breath catch ever so faintly behind him when he realizes what Evgeni is thinking. It scares Evgeni that he hasn’t intervened yet.  
  
It scares Evgeni even more when the man says, “я бессмертен.” (I’m immortal) his voice is apprehensive but smooth, and somehow Evgeni knows he’s telling the truth, and this was meant to be. All Evgeni can think about is how strongly he felt when Sergei told him only minutes ago to keep walking. “Меня подстрелили в сундук, и проснулся несколько минут назад.” (I was shot in the chest, and woke up a few minutes ago)  
  
Evgeni can almost feel the tension in the air surrounding them but he can’t help but think about how this almost didn’t happen. He wants to turn around and tell Sergei, ‘I told you so.’ But he can’t even look away from the man standing in front of him.  
  
All he can do is smile.


End file.
